


Agápe

by AvaRosier



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Set Vaguely In The Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis considered it perhaps his greatest saving grace that in this life, he had been capable of truly loving a woman this selflessly, and without expectation of recompense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agápe

" _If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.  [...] For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known_."

1 Corinthians 13:3,12

* * *

 

He brought her a slab of salted beef from the market, wrapped up in sackcloth, with a sweet pastry on top of the bundle.

"You needn't have," Constance protested, looking altogether miffed with him. Aramis took no offense, and merely tipped his hat in her direction.

" _Au contraire_ , Madame, need had everything to do with it. I wished to express my gratitude for everything you have done for my brothers-in-arms and I." These were no honeyed words.

The past few months had been difficult on Madame Bonacieux, the least being her husband's attempts to murder her. The experience had tempered her vivacity, but like the flowers nudging through the soil in spring, so was he beginning to glimspe her old self. Her auburn curls are more sprightly, her cheeks less wan, and her eyes more joyous.

She was a little, studious mouse that had discovered she could be brave. He adored her lightning wit, her cutting tongue, and her poorly disguised thirst for adventure. She may be draped in gowns of modest means and respectability, but Aramis saw her as a brilliant flame. And somehow she had seared herself onto the backs of his eyelids and she was there every time he closed his eyes.

Her cleverness had saved her own life when neither Aramis nor D'Artagnan had been able. Milady de Winter had very nearly fatally poisoned Constance to ensure her silence and the Cardinal's complicity in Monsieur Bonacieux's plots. But Constance, quick Constance, had identified her predicament and found the herbs necessary to counteract the poison. He had rushed into the inn only to see her small frame panting as she heaved the last of her stomach's contents onto the wooden floorboards. 

Aramis had long since realized that he couldn't bear to lose Constance Bonacieux. 

But neither did he dare press his suit. Not now, not in another year, not with the Cardinal still maneuvering plots against them. Poor Adele had paid the price, and it would take every ounce of Aramis' cunning to shield Constance from further repercussions of her association with the Musketeers.

For all his temporary assignations, Aramis was mature to understand that he and Constance were not for the here and now. He adored women, took pleasure in their company, and fell in love frequently. He did not have it in him to be a good husband to Constance, even if she were to ever consider him for the task. God willing, if the both of them still lived in ten or fifteen years, and she were not already happily wed, he would offer his devotion.

The Greeks had words for all these different kinds of love.   _Éros,_ _P_ _hilia,_ _Storge._

He partook in the sensual beauty of women and always claimed to find his own kind of spiritual transcendence with his head pillowed on a pair of breasts. He would give up his life for his fellow Musketeers; their brotherhood ran deeper than the sacrifices they were willing to make for King and Country. He had done his best to honor his parents.

But the kind of love that had grown in his heart for Constance Bonacieux, that was _agápe_.

Although the brand was often used in the Church to describe God's love for mankind, or vice versa, his sentiments for Cosntance were more earthly. Aramis considered it perhaps his greatest saving grace that in this life, he had been capable of truly loving a woman this selflessly, and without expectation of recompense. Porthos knew, he had always been observant where Aramis was concerned, but his brother passed no judgement.

He waited for her to store the beef and place the pastry on top of the counter in an act of restraint. Aramis had gleaned how much of a sweet tooth she had, and suspected that she would practically devour the entire thing in one bite soon as he was gone.

Sweeping his hat back onto his head, Aramis bowed deeply and, as he straightened, he reached out for her hand. This, he would indulge. Bringing the wrist carefully up to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss, moustache bristles and all, onto the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and smelled faintly of lavender and yeast. Constance neither stiffened her arm nor made move to yank it away from his hold. 

"I shall take my leave of you now, Madame Bonacieux." He murmured, a sly smile growing at the corner of his mouth. "You are looking more well these days- I would say you smile more, but you never smiled much to begin with."

Her reaction was swift, and expected. He saw her face scrunch and heard her gasp in outrage scant seconds before the crack of her palm against his cheek came. 

This is where he loved her: here, in the ache of his jaw when he granted her a smile after offending her thusly. There, in the hotness of her cheeks as she took him to task for his idiocy. 

Aramis wished he could allow himself to kiss her. But if all they could have was lips to wrists and palms to cheeks, that would have to suffice.

He winked at Constance, thin-lipped still as she showed him to the back door of the inn, her eyes bright and so, so _alive_.

"As always, Madame, I shall count the hours before we meet again."

He whistled as he walked down the cobblestone road, counting the seconds before she finally closed the door.

 


End file.
